


Sunshine

by CuteCuteJames



Category: LazyTown
Genre: 90s Slang, Kinda, M/M, bessie the librarian, jives is the town sage, people just don't know it yet, sport's a plant!, stingy has a crisis!, trixie's in trouble!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuteCuteJames/pseuds/CuteCuteJames
Summary: An unusually sleepy Sportacus leaves Robbie to save the kids. Stingy has an identity crisis and goes to the library. Jives gives advice. Pretty normal day, really.
Relationships: Robbie Rotten/Sportacus
Comments: 13
Kudos: 38





	Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElongatedStingy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElongatedStingy/gifts).



> Part of a gift exchange for ElongatedStingy. Exchange organized by SkylordHoneydew for December 2020.

Robbie watched apprehensively as Sportacus sleepily got comfortable, snuggling into their bed with fluffy pillows and blankets at an absurd time of day.  
“Maybe when I wake up tomorrow, I will have all my energy back,” the sleepy superhero said quietly.  
“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Robbie replied sharply, but matching Sport’s volume.  
“If I don’t get better soon, maybe, okay?” Sportacus leaned up for a kiss.  
Robbie gave a sincere, loving kiss, and harumphed gently. “Well, good. You’d better. This is weird, you being so sleepy all the time!”  
“I know. It will all be okay, I promise.”  
Of course, at that moment, the crystal beeped.  
“Oh, no,” said Sportacus, who had been dreading this moment.  
“Who is it? And where? I’ll have to go!” Robbie said immediately.  
“Trixie! She’s… She’s at her house--go, quick!!”  
Robbie jumped, panicking. He left his sickly boyfriend and rushed out the cavernous hidden side entrance to the lair, past the big bulldozer, to his purple bicycle. He hopped on and bolted for the Troubleby residence, which luckily was toward his side of town. As he got closer, he could hear yelling. He wheeled around into the sideyard. What met his eyes was a screaming 13-year old in a black skirt and red long-sleeve shirt clinging to the second-story windowsill, and a screaming 13-year-old in a pink hoodie trying to help her back in.  
“Trixie, can you hold on long enough for me to get inside?” Robbie yelled breathlessly.  
“Robbie?” Stephanie’s shocked voice accompanied her stunned face.  
Trixie breathed for a second. “Yeah! Yeah, but _hurry!!_ ”  
Robbie ditched the bike, dashed around the house, pounced up the stairs, and leaped across the room in one bound onto Trixie’s bed. He lunged through the window, grabbed hold of Trixie’s underarms, and heaved her back into the house.  
Robbie took one step off the bed and collapsed flat onto his back, panting heavily. Trixie was kneeling on her bed, rubbing her hands. Stephanie, who had been still standing on the bed, sat on the edge and looked down at her exhausted friend and neighbor.  
“Thank you, Robbie, but… Why didn’t Sportacus come?”  
“Not… Feeling… His… Jumping bean… Best.” Robbie panted, then taking larger and slower breaths, trying to get his breathing under control.  
“Sportacus is _sick?_ ” blurted Trixie incredulously.   
“No, no way, he’s never gotten sick!” Stephanie protested.  
“You think I’m doing this for fun?” Robbie wheezed, gesturing around him.  
“Well, what’s wrong with him?” asked Stephanie  
“He’s exhausted. Probably from years of chasing you kids around. Up trees, up towers, up in that balloon…”  
“That was you,” Trixie pointed at Robbie.  
“The point is,” continued Robbie, sitting up, “that all he needs is some _rest!_ Some _peace_ and _quiet_ and some _not running around and saving people all the time._ ”  
Stephanie looked suddenly quite guilty. Feeling that he might have been a bit much, Robbie changed the subject.   
“What happened here, anyway?”  
“Oh,” said Stephanie, looking at the open window.  
“We were dancing and my moves got out of hand,” said Trixie. “I jumped onto the bed and couldn’t stop.”  
“I see. Well, no more jumping on the bed with the window open,” he wagged a finger at them. “Crashing your face into it is better than sailing out of it! Or whatever Sportaloon would say here. Eat a fruit. Whatever.”  
“You nailed it,” Trixie assured him. Stephanie giggled.  
Robbie creakily and shakily got to his feet. “I’m leaving,” he announced.  
“Thanks, Robbie,” said Trixie.  
“Thank you again,” said Stephanie.  
“Whatever,” said Robbie, hugging them each and sashaying out the door.

~~~

Stingy sighed dramatically, his legs dangling over the arm of Pixel’s sofa as he lay on his back across it. Stephanie raised an eyebrow at him briefly before going back to her game. Pixel, at the computer, didn’t even look over (not that Stingy could see him).  
Stingy sighed again, reaching almost comic levels of drama.   
Pixel giggled quietly. “What’s up, Stingy?”  
“What even _is_ gender, anyway?”  
Stephanie paused and turned to look at him. Behind them, Pixel put down his headset.  
Having no idea what to say, Stephanie decided to take the teacher route. “What do you think it means?”  
“I don’t know! I can’t even figure out if it means anything! The more I think about it, the more I just feel like I’m studying an alien race from another planet.”  
He sighed and huffed.  
“What do _you_ think it is?” Stingy asked Stephanie.  
“It’s like… I don’t know, what color you feel like, or something... Pixel, what do you think?”  
“I can’t say I’ve really thought about it much.”  
“You haven’t? Well, then how do you know you’re a boy?” Stingy asked him.  
“I don’t know, I just know. You don’t?”  
“I don’t know!”  
“You don’t know that you don’t know?” Pixel asked.  
“I DON’T KNOW!” Stingy covered his face with a pillow and let out a sharp, muffled yell.  
“Well,” started Stephanie gently, “if you don’t know something, there’s one place you could go.”  
“The library?” Stingy sat up and looked at her skeptically. “You think that’ll help?”  
“Definitely,” said Pixel. “There’s bound to be tons of helpful stuff.”  
“More helpful than we can be, anyway,” Stephanie added.  
Stingy hopped up. “Well, if you think so. All right, see you later.”  
Stephanie and Pixel watched him go.   
“How _do_ you know?” Pixel asked Stephanie.  
“I have no idea how to put it into words,” she answered, shrugging. “He’ll be fine, right?”  
“Probably,” Pixel shrugged. “I don’t think we can solve this for him.”  
Stephanie nodded and looked thoughtfully back toward the staircase.

~~~

“Hello, Miss Busybody,” said Stingy politely, addressing the assistant librarian.  
“Well, hello, Stingy. It’s nice to see you. Are you working on a project for school, sweetie?” Bessie asked, putting away her phone on which she had been surreptitiously texting.  
“Um, no. This is a project for me that I’m working on. Well, of me. It’s me. Where can I find out about what gender is?”  
“Oh, my. Well, let’s take a look.” She typed something into her computer. Finding what she was looking for, she scribbled down the numbers 155.3 and 306.76 onto a piece of scrap paper. “Here are the sections that you’ll find helpful. Would you like me to come with you?”  
“No, thank you, Bessie. Thank you for the help.” He took the paper and toddled off.  
“Anytime, dear!” Bessie watched him go, finding herself deeply tempted to follow him and help anyway. She forced herself to let him go. He was a growing boy… er, child, anyway, and he asked for his space. Remembering she had packed some extra cookies, she dashed off to get them, a plate, and to write a little note to indicate they were Stingy’s.

~~~

Robbie sat miserably on a bench, staring out into nothingness. Jives and Ziggy were making their way to the nearby field. Jives saw him first, and he and Ziggy headed over.  
“Yo, Mr. Rotten. Why so glum, chum?”  
“Sportalove is sick and I don’t know what to do and I’m worried and I really shouldn’t be telling you children this,” Robbie babbled.  
“Class A bummer, dude.”  
“Sportacus doesn’t get sick,” said Ziggy quietly, mystified. He plopped onto the bench while Jives leaned over the low wall.  
“Well, he has now. He has no energy, all he wants to do is sleep, and I have no idea what’s wrong.”  
“Has your dude been getting any sun?” asked Jives thoughtfully.  
“He’s not a plant.” replied Robbie flatly.  
“Nah, so, like, check it: our hero moved into your lair, right? So you two have the whole love-nest thing going on. Recently, didn’t you buy him all sorts of exercise equipment so you guys can watch movies or whatever and spend more quality time down under while he runs and jumps and lifts?”  
“Yes…?”  
“Well, think about it. Before that, the dude was always blasting around in his airship with the big windows or running around town. You know, in the fresh air and sunshine? Now when does he come up? Just when he’s saving people, right?”  
“And today, not even then. I had to save Trouble Girl from falling out of her window.”  
“Rad,” said Jives, approvingly.  
“So, Sportacus needs sunshine?” asked Ziggy.  
“Totally. But since Blue Dude is like, most bedridden, and like, it’s all overcasty and not sunny and stuff, you should start your man on some vitamin D.”  
“Vitamin D,” repeated Robbie skeptically.  
“Yup. And dairy. It gets absorbed better with calcium.”  
Robbie had but a moment to ponder this when Jives spoke up again, but not to him.  
“Hey, that’s a ton of books you got there, little dude. What’cha researching?”  
Robbie looked around. Stingy was walking past with a stack of books looking particularly distressed.  
“I’m trying to figure out what the _hell_ on this green earth gender is.”  
“Yo, that’s deep. Are you okay?”  
With all his 13-year-old existential anguish swelling to a crescendo, Stingy hollered “NO!” and turned and walked off, slightly hunched with the weight of the books.  
“Wow,” said Ziggy, “you think he’s gonna be all right? Should I go help him?”  
“Nah, candy bro. He’ll be fine. This isn’t the kind of thing you can solve for him. Definitely answer the phone if he calls, tho.”  
“What did he say he was reading about?” Robbie asked.  
“Gender, Mr. Dude. I think little bro’s trying to figure himself out.”  
“By reading books?” Ziggy asked, unsure.  
“Yeah, it’s helpful to read about other people’s experiences and thoughts and studies, you know? Sometimes you need to find out what other people think to figure out what you think.”  
“Huh. Is that the only way?”  
“Nah, brah. I had a classmate who went through the same thing. Every week for a month she changed up her pronouns and like, how she dressed and acted.”  
“What happened?”  
“Yes, what happened,” echoed Robbie, suddenly curious.  
“It was cool for the most part. Most of the adults tried to keep up, and her friends were all chill. There was one teacher who was decidedly not chill at all. Like, he refused to honor her wishes and stuff.”  
“What did you do?” asked Ziggy.  
“I said, ‘Yo, Mr. Derwillett, sir, you are being most unhelpful in a situation that would take less effort than you being like, obstinate about this.’”  
“That was brazen,” snorted Robbie. “I like it.”  
“Cool, Mr. Rotten. That means a lot,” Jives grinned.  
“Did you get in trouble?” Ziggy asked.  
“Oh, totally. A week’s detention, but I didn’t care. My mom took me out for ice cream every day I had detention.”  
Robbie chuckled. “She would. What happened with your classmate?”  
Jives shrugged. “She figured out she liked being a girl, so that was that.”  
Ziggy looked at him blankly. “Did she start that way, or…?”  
Jives laughed. “Oh, yeah, I kinda forgot to say that part, huh? Yeah, so she’s still a girl, but like, on purpose this time.”  
Robbie nodded to himself, able to relate to that sentiment.   
“Well, I’ve got some shopping to do. You kids stay out of trouble,” Robbie got up and took a few steps before, “Oh, and Jives, you may want to tell the… ‘little dude’ that story you just told us.”  
“Rad idea, Mr. Rotten Dude. See ya!” Jives whipped out his little flip-phone with the dangling plastic carrot charm and started typing away.

~~~

“Sportasweetheart,” said Robbie gently, nudging his boyfriend awake. “Sporty…”  
“Hi, Robbie,” Sportacus replied sleepily. “Is everything okay?”  
“Everything’s fine. I have something for you. Eat this and take these.”  
Sportacus looked where Robbie was pointing. “What is it?”  
“Plain yogurt with some honey and some vitamins. I got a ...good recommendation for you.”  
“Okay,” Sportacus said easily, sitting up slowly and eating obediently.   
“When you finish that, go back to sleep. I’ll come see how you are in the morning.”   
“Robbie, do you know you’re perfect? How is Trixie?” he asked suddenly, remembering their morning. Or was it afternoon…?  
“She’s fine. Everyone’s perfectly fine. And I told them to stay out of trouble for a few days.”  
“Good. That will hold them,” Sportacus grinned, his boyfriend’s humor clearly rubbing off on him.  
“That’s right. Our perfect, obedient children.” Robbie nodded, smiling.

Robbie watched him eat, cleaned up after him, and tucked him back in. He then wandered out to watch television and fall asleep in his Big Orange Chair.

The next morning, Sportacus opened his eyes, and found that it didn’t take effort. He could move his body without feeling like he was lifting heavy objects. He grinned and sat up.  
“I am ready for the day!” He laughed, leaping out of bed. He galavanted forth, singing to himself. “Wake up, wake up! It’s a great big beautiful day!”  
He sailed through the living room where Robbie was snoring loudly. Sportacus sprinted to the ladder that led topside.  
“Wake up. Wake up! It’s a day to go out and play!” Sportacus sprouted out the top of the hatch of the lair, bursting into the air above ground. It was POURING rain. There was a thunderclap in the distance. He stopped singing.  
Robbie stretched and yawned. “Well, you’re looking cheerful,” he observed as Sportacus reappeared. “And soggy.”  
“I feel great!” Sportacus announced, his t-shirt soaked. “And I owe it all to you, Robbie! Come here, it’s time for a hug!”  
“Oh, god, no. No!”  
Sportacus wrapped his cold, wet arms around his squirming boyfriend, who protested. “AAAUUGH! EEEEEEEH! AAOOOOOUUUUGH!!”

[end]


End file.
